


0 - you searched for a spring and found a sea

by saltysarah



Series: For I Still Live [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 03:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30082842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltysarah/pseuds/saltysarah
Summary: Back on Coruscant, things are far from peaceful. But life must go on, and the Younglings meet a potential ally.
Relationships: Bant Eerin & Obi-Wan Kenobi & Garen Muln & Reeft & Siri Tachi & Quinlan Vos, Bant Eerin & Quinlan Vos, Tholme & Quinlan Vos, Tholme & The Younglings
Series: For I Still Live [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2193600
Comments: 6
Kudos: 165





	0 - you searched for a spring and found a sea

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Edith Södergran’s poem, The Day Cools…IV. 
> 
> This occurs well before 1 begins, bare months into Obi's sojourn on Melida/Daan.

“Bant, get off me! I’m gonna kill ‘em. I’m gonna _kill ‘em!”_

Kit perked up, lekku stiffening at the violent aggression in the air.

“Siri, Reeft, get Master Tholme. Reeft! Get Siri and Master Tholme, _now!”_

“Let go of me! I’ll show the smug bastard - I’ll show him with _my fist in his face!”_

“Quin! Quinlan, please calm down. I’m as upset as you are, Quin, _please.”_

Abruptly the violence fizzled out, much to the relief of his lekku.

“Oh. Oh, Bantee, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry, Bantee, I’m so sorry.”

Kit peered around the corner to see- Padawan Vos, of course. The boy had been more volatile than usual, and his name had gone several rounds around the Temple of late. The other was…a Mon Calamari female, still in an Initiate uniform, although there was a badge that marked her as a junior healer, nonetheless.

 _That_ was impressive, that she was talented enough for Master Che to argue against the Council’s exacting 13 standard deadline. There was another Initiate with them, a human male who hadn’t spoken earlier but was speaking to the Kiffar now, a stream of words in his ear too quiet for Kit to pick up.

He recognised the boy - or rather, his acquaintance with Clee Rhara ensured that he did, given her newfangled habit of hovering around the creche when her Corps called at Coruscant. Then again, Muln’s piloting and navigation scores were _quite_ spectacular.

Footsteps thundering down the hall had him raising his head. If Crechemaster Zhev Tay caught them running in the corridors, there’d be hell to pay.

It was Tholme, wild-eyed and frantic, accompanied by Adi’s new Padawan and a Dressellian male he didn’t recognise.

“Quinlan!”

The Kiffar took one look at his Master’s distraught face and burst into tears.

“Oh, Quinlan, you fool,” Tholme sighed, and bustled the lanky teenager into a hug. Vos clung to him, careful even in his distress not to let them touch skin-on-skin.

“I told you it was a bad idea,” Tachi hissed at the Mon Calamari, Bant, who in turn tossed her head, a motion that passed for rolling her eyes. Kit was a bit tickled; he hadn’t done that since he was a Padawan himself, and Master Kcaj had told him it was unbecoming for a Jedi Knight.

“It was _his_ lightsaber, Siri,” Bant hissed. “We had to know.”

Her words drew Tachi up tight, and the Dressellian leant in, too. “Was it-?”

Bant closed her eyes and reached for their hands. Ah, by the Force, was she sharing a memory? A memory Vos had shared with her? That was _dangerous,_ what did they think they were doing, and what was _Tholme_ doing, just sitting there letting them-?

Their eyes snapped open with a gasp. Muln was ready, his long arms steadying Tachi and the Dressellian both. Distress was souring the air again, and his lekku curled tighter around his shoulders.

Ugh, Kit wanted to know, he _really, really wanted to know._ Master Kcaj had scolded him many a time for his inquiring nature, but - _he really did want to know!_

Especially if it was causing such upset to their younglings. If there was any chance he could help-.

The Dressellian boy caught his breath in a sob, and Muln slung his arm over his shoulder.

“I know, Reeft,” he said, his voice cracking, “I know.”

“They were dying,” Tachi whispered, horrified, “and he- he just _left_ them there?”

Well, _now_ Kit had to know.

“That sleemo took it from him before they left!” Vos burst out. “I can’t even tell if Obi is alive or dead!”

Oh. _Oh._

That had certainly made the rounds, when Master Jinn returned from Melida/Daan with a badly injured Knight Tahl, only the barest of a situational report, and no Padawan. There were some - quite a number, in fact, who’d taken offence at that, so soon after Bandomeer and Xanatos, but the official Council ruling was that Obi-Wan Kenobi had left the Order of his own regard. Knight Tahl was still in a coma and could hardly object.

He’d heard that Kenobi’s crechemates had refused to accept the Council’s ruling, and had even ended up sanctioned for their attachment, which had to be quite the blow, with half of them still Initiates. Looking at them now, they hardly seemed to regret their actions. Honestly, Kit was still a bit iffy on the 13 standard deadline, given how Master Kcaj had taken him as a Padawan after his 15th birthday.

He and Master Kcaj had agreed to disagree on that.

Tholme hushed Vos, tucking his face back against his shoulder with a gloved hand.

“I let you continue because I know how much your friend’s absence hurts you,” he said quietly, addressing the group of them, “but this is festering- and I know you hate to hear it- but it is festering into attachment.”

Tachi bit back something clearly rude while Reeft sniffed, curling against Muln’s shoulder.

“If it is,” Bant said in a shaking voice, “then it’s just us making up for that- for that _sleemo._ Why did he even take Obi when he never cared? Quin can feel that too, you know?”

Kit’s hearts ached for them, they truly did. Jinn had been absolved by the Council, and even if many Jedi found that suspect, the Maverick had never paid the Temple scuttlebutt much attention. Too driven, he was called when they were being kind. Too self-centred, when they were not. Kit knew which of the 2 he believed.

“Kenobi would not want you to linger on your memories of him,” Tholme said firmly. “Not like this. He deserves more than your bitterness and anger.”

Muln huffed, turning away.

“You need to meditate,” Tholme told them frankly, “all of you.”

“Master-,” Vos began to whine.

 _“All of you,”_ Tholme repeated, gently tugging on one Vos's braids.

There was more grumbling from the rest of the younglings, but they seemed to be at an impasse. Kit found that he was glad for Tholme, who so clearly cared not only for their futures but for their well-being, too, and for their hearts.

“Go ahead,” Bant said, her hands clenched on top of her thighs.

Tholme clicked his tongue. “Bant-.”

“I’ll be right there, I promise,” she said, one corner of her mouth twitching. “I just- I just need a moment alone. Please.”

Tholme huffed. “If you’re not with us in 5 minutes, I’m letting Quinlan off the leash.”

“I’m not an akk, Master!” Vos squawked.

Tholme patted the Kiffar’s head, raising a pointed eyebrow when Vos leant into the touch. “Of course not, Quin,” he said while the others giggled.

Kit gave Bant a few minutes to herself after the others had left, closing his eyes to give her additional privacy. When he opened them, it was to see her with her face buried in her hands. The Force was already prodding forward; he just closed the remaining gap between them the old-fashioned way.

“Initiate…Bant?” Her head jerked up. “I apologise for alarming you, but are you alright? I can accompany you to the Halls-.”

She was already shaking her head and waving his worry aside. “No, no, I’m fine, Master. And, um. It’s Eerin. Initiate Bant Eerin.”

He smiled, his own only widening when she managed a tiny one in return. “I’m Kit Fisto, Jedi Knight. May I sit?”

“Oh! Um. Sure?”

“You don’t sound very sure, Initiate Eerin. I could keep standing if you prefer-.”

“You can absolutely sit!”

He grinned and promptly settled cross-legged on the floor in front of her.

“Um. Alright, then,” she said faintly. “Was there something you wanted, Knight Fisto?”

“As a matter of fact, Initiate Eerin there was,” he said. “I was wondering - is there another Knight or Master who was considering taking you on as a Padawan?”

Bant blinked. “Um. No?”

“Oh, good,” he said. “Not that it’s good that no one’s considering, because you absolutely deserve to be considered, I just, uh, appreciate the lack of competition.”

“Knight Fisto,” Bant said slowly, “are you asking me to be your Padawan?”

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “But not quite yet, you see, because you don’t know me and I don’t know you, so I was thinking, we could take some time to get to know each other, and at the end of that time, I’m hoping you might still be agreeable to be my Padawan.”

Bant swallowed. “What if,” she asked quietly, “at the end of that time, _you_ don’t want me to be your Padawan?”

“Oh, Ba- Initiate Eerin,” he corrected himself. She had not given him leave to be familiar with her, and he would not take liberties because of his position of authority over her. “May I hold your hand, please?”

Uncertainly, she extended her hand. Kit grasp it in between both of his, squeezing warmly.

“You caught my eye, Initiate Eerin, while we were both perfect strangers. Kindly tell me what that means.”

“The- Force?” she asked. “It’s- sort of bubbling around you.”

He laughed, giving her hand another squeeze. “Well, that’s odd, because to me, the Force is bubbling around _you._ So I think that gives us pretty good odds, don’t you think?”

Bant nodded once, still cautious.

“However. If, for some reason or other, it truly doesn’t work out between us - then I will do my best not to leave you in the lurch,” he promised. “I have a _very_ extensive comm directory, even more so if you don’t mind moving to Corellia or Ossus. Surely someone outside of Coruscant is less pig-headed.”

She began to smile.

“And correct me if I’m wrong, but that pin is from the Halls of Healing,” he continued. Bant nodded again. “So, unless you think Master Che would leave you hanging-?”

“Oh, stars, no, she’d string us both up from her ceiling first,” Bant blurted out, only to slap her hands over her mouth. Kit burst out laughing.

“Banteebanteebanteebant!”

They both turned to watch Vos careen round the corner entirely too quickly, only to ricochet off the wall. “Master sent me to look for-!” Vos skidded to a halt, looking between them with a narrowed gaze.

“Bantee?” Vos asked, a number of unvoiced questions in that one nickname. Kit was an expert duellist on par with Jinn, for Force’s sake. He was _not_ going to be cowed by scrap of a Padawan just because he looked ready to throw hands.

“Quin, this is Knight Kit Fisto; Knight Fisto, Padawan Quinlan Vos. Knight Fisto’s requested a- how would you call it?”

Kit wrinkled his nose. “A trial partnership, perhaps? Hopefully leading to a successful acceptance.”

“Acceptance of what,” Vos demanded flatly.

“Quin,” Bant said firmly. “If we’re _both_ in agreement, Knight Fisto will take me as his Padawan.”

“Actually,” he corrected, “Initiate Eerin, _you_ will do me the honour of becoming my Padawan.”

Vos narrowed his eyes, glancing between them. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

“No,” Kit replied. “The choice is Initiate Eerin’s. No threats or conditions - it is wholeheartedly her decision. Force willing, if Initiate Eerin agrees and I become her Master, I will hold an enormous amount of authority over her during some of her most formative years. It isn’t a decision to be made lightly on either of our parts, and I will respect Initiate Eerin’s choice in the matter.”

He amended his words.

“No, excuse me, I will continue to respect Initiate Eerin’s choices through the years to come, regardless of her decision.”

“And I appreciate it,” Bant said primly. She’d become more and more settled as this conversation continued, and Kit could see the makings of the Knight-Healer she could be.

“Oh,” Vos said softly, staring at his feet. Bant sighed, and reached for his gloved hand. Kit didn’t know _what_ they were thinking about, but he was fairly certain _who_ they were thinking of. 

“Knight Fisto,” Bant said, “I was going to meditate, with Padawan Vos, his Master, and some of our friends. Would you…join us?”

Kit smiled, careful to only keep it to his first set of mandibles. “Thank you for the invitation, Initiate Eerin. I would love to.”


End file.
